


More

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Series: Resemblances to the Truth [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early Work, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-03-01
Updated: 1997-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyrcek has killed a man for the first time and is shaken by the experience. Mulder finds that there is more to the young agent than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> **AO3 A/N:** This is an example of my very early fanfic. For historical purposes I'm leaving it as it was originally posted, including the summary. Even if a lot of it makes me cringe now.

> Whenever, therefore, people are deceived and form opinions wide of the truth, it is clear that the error has slid into their minds through the medium of certain resemblances to that truth.  
> —Socrates

  
_some people get by_  
with a little understanding  
some people get by  
with a whole lot more  
I don't know  
why you gotta be so undemanding  
one thing I know  
I want more

"Mulder?" Alex Krycek broke the silence that had been growing between them for the better part of the drive. He shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the sedan and took a deep breath. "I know you wanted him alive. But he had a gun. I could _swear_ he had a gun. Christ, he was going to shoot you. What else could I do? I couldn't let him shoot you." The younger agent's voice was tight and brittle, the words gushing from his mouth in a torrent.

He reached out and tentatively put one trembling hand on his partner's shoulder. Mulder looked sideways at the pale and shaken man beside him and realized that Krycek must be interpreting his silent fuming as anger over the death of their suspect. _Augustus Cole can rot in hell for all I care. I just want that damned file back. The bastards always have someone there to steal back any crumb of information that I dig up._

"It's all right. I was there, remember? It wasn't your fault. Cole _wanted_ you to shoot him. You did the right thing." _How many times do I have to say that?_

Still, the light touch on his shoulder remained until they pulled up to the curb in front of Krycek's apartment. As Krycek got out of the car he turned and looked back, a frown creasing his forehead.

"You wanna come up and have a beer and some pizza?" he asked softly, a hint of desperation in his voice. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and he looked haunted. _Haunted by the ghost of the man he killed? Or by his own conscience?_

With shock Mulder realized that Krycek had probably never killed anyone before. His eidetic memory brought back, in vivid detail, the first man he'd shot—a street punk even younger than himself. He remembered the cold, unsympathetic faces of his peers and the drunken haze through which he'd seen the days immediately following. _Hell, one altruistic act won't ruin my reputation._

"Sure." He switched off the ignition and grabbed his cell phone from the seat next to him. "I could use some food and company."

Soft creaks and groans accompanied them as the ancient key-activated freight elevator carried them up to the second floor. As Krycek locked the gate down behind them the tension slowly began to drain almost visibly from his body. It was as though the place was a sanctuary from the world at large.

Looking around, Mulder found himself in a converted loft, open and spacious. Chinese screens were scattered in strategic locations, providing privacy without detracting from the impression of expansiveness. Mulder was surprised at the minimalistic furnishings—that sense of style certainly wasn't displayed in the ill-fitting suits Krycek wore.

"This is some place," he said.

"Yeah, well it's cheaper than you think. It looks nice inside, but remember the neighborhood it's in." Krycek smiled wryly, "I even have to pay extra to get pizza delivery guys to come here." He slipped his jacket off and draped it neatly over the back of the couch before heading into the kitchen.

Mulder followed him, dumping his jacket next to Krycek's and analyzing the decor with a critical eye. The kitchen wouldn't have looked out of place in a restaurant; its motif was stainless steel—counters, sinks, oven, range top, and wall-inset refrigerator—and it was all spotless. The loft was the exact opposite of Mulder's own cramped and chaotic apartment. Everything about Krycek seemed to be immaculate and neatly organized, from his Junior G-Man haircut to his highly polished living space.

Krycek stood in front of the refrigerator, peering in through the open door. Mulder caught himself watching the younger man's movements attentively and realized that he was standing much too close. He took a deep breath and backed up a pace as Krycek turned around.

"Looks like I don't have much in the way of beer," he said apologetically. "How's this?" He held up a bottle of Thomas Hardy Ale.

"Fine," Mulder said, not really looking at the bottle he was handed. He looked around at the professional kitchen, curious about this side of Krycek, a side he'd never seen. "You cook?"

"You sound surprised. I used to cook a lot, but not much anymore. Haven't had the time since I've been working with you." Another smile. Alex closed the refrigerator door and stepped forward.

"I never thought of you as the _cordon bleu_ type. You're a real Renaissance man, you know that Krycek?" He grinned. This time he didn't step back; instead he savored his partner's proximity.

"My father was a chef. It's hard not to pick up some skills when you're around that your whole life. He had me working in the kitchen with him as soon as I could handle a knife. I can mince, sautee, and deglaze with the best of them." He took a deep swig of his beer and leaned against the counter, his body still tense.

"So why did you become an FBI agent? It sounds like you could have had a much less dangerous career following in your father's footsteps."

"You've obviously never been in the restaurant business. It's plenty dangerous," he said lightly.

"Seriously."

Krycek studied the hardwood floor intently for a moment. Then, without moving his head he raised his gaze, peering at Mulder through lush black lashes. _You could lose yourself in those eyes._

"James Bond," he said quietly, "and Eliot Ness and Herbert Philbrick. It sounds so stupid now." He returned to studying the floor but Mulder could see the faint blush rising in his cheeks.

He reached out and gently tipped his partner's chin upwards until they were eye to eye. In the back of his mind he realized he was testing Alex's reactions to him, to his touch. _Do you really want to go there, Mulder?_

"It doesn't sound stupid, Alex," he said. "Law enforcement icons often influence people's career choices." _Now_ that _sounded stupid. What're you doing, Mulder? Trying to impress him with buzzwords?_

"They never tell you what it's _really_ going to be like, do they? Not even at Quantico." The young agent was shaking again.

He dropped his hand to his side. "The things you see, the things you have to do—this job can be really rough," he sympathized. "I almost quit after the first time I shot and killed someone. It bothered me. I decided I wasn't cut out for the FBI."

Krycek looked at him intently. "You? You've always seemed so sure of yourself."

"It's a hell of a mask, isn't it? Sometimes even _I'm_ not sure where 'Fox Mulder' ends and 'Agent Mulder' begins—what's real and what's for public consumption."

"What kept you going when you were thinking about quitting?" Krycek asked.

"I had to find Samantha. I had to find the truth—about aliens, about government conspiracies, about everything that the average person considers paranormal or supernatural."

"I'd expect nothing less from the famed 'Spooky' Mulder. You're pretty close to a law enforcement icon yourself, you know? At least to me." Krycek blushed again.

Mulder grinned. "At least I know there was one person at the Academy who wasn't making fun of me," he said. There was a brief uncomfortable silence.

"Um, listen," Krycek said suddenly, "I've got to get out of these clothes and I'd like to take a quick shower, too. I'm beginning to understand how Lady Macbeth felt. 'What, will these hands ne'er be clean?'" he quoted. Mulder caught the barely suppressed shudder. "Do you mind if I abandon you for fifteen minutes or so?"

"No problem. Leave me the number of the pizza place and I'll order for us. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

~ * ~ * ~

Mulder leaned against the end of the counter, nursing his beer. He didn't know what to think of his new partner anymore. He was turning out to be full of surprises. A chef, an accomplished interior decorator and a devotee of William Shakespeare—what was next?

He was even starting to feel guilty about ditching him "like somebody's bad date," as Krycek had put it. The kid seemed to really care about the X files and he'd proven himself to be a good man to have at your back—even if Mulder's life hadn't really been in danger. _Give it up, Mulder. You just think he's got a cute ass._

A flash of movement from behind the Chinese screen caught his attention. A light had been flicked on in what was probably the "bedroom" alcove and he could see Alex silhouetted against the screen. He watched, fascinated, as the shadow stripped, tossing the discarded clothes aside. Slowly he became aware of his own physical reactions to the spectacle. Idly he wondered how his pulse could race like that when all the blood was pooling in one part of his anatomy.

The words "invasion of privacy" wandered around in his head, vainly searching for some attention from his conscious mind. Finally they hooked up with the bit of his brain that was mumbling "voyeur" over and over again in accusatory tones, but that was pointless as well; he'd long ago found life more enjoyable if he ignored the voice that Scully would have called his conscience.

The shadow vanished from his sight momentarily but Krycek reappeared, his image now pink and wildly distorted through the thick glass bricks of the spiral shower enclosure. Mulder took a quick swig of his beer and roughly set it down on the steel counter, oblivious to the foam that rushed up through the narrow neck of the bottle and spilled down its sides.

~ * ~ * ~

  
_d'you get scared to feel so much?_  
to let somebody touch you?  
so hot, so cold, so far so out of control  
hard to come by, and harder to hold

The water was warm and soothing, caressing his body like the tender ministrations of a lover. As he leaned back into the spray, Alex closed his eyes and let it lull him into a comfortable relaxation. His memories of the day's events were starting to blur and soften, the horror washing away with the shampoo and soap that swirled down the drain.

Gradually he became aware of a touch more purposeful than the sultry torrents cascading over his skin. The fingers stroking his arm drew back at the sound of his gasp. Without opening his eyes, Alex took a deep breath and evaluated the situation. _What are the chances of a lust-crazed, red-headed exotic dancer breaking into my apartment and accosting me in the shower? Nil. Okay, so it's Mulder. What do I do?_

The touch resumed, slipping around to his chest and lazily tracing a circle around his right nipple. Lips gently touched the base of his neck and Alex shuddered in pleasure. _I see. Shut up and enjoy it. Got it._

Internal conflict resolved—or at least overridden for the moment—Alex relaxed and focused on the other man's touch. Arms wrapped around his waist and teeth grazed the tender flesh of his neck. He heard a low moan and was surprised to realize that it had come from his own throat.

Tipping his head back until it rested against his partner's shoulder, Alex felt the warmth of Mulder's face against his. He turned his head and sought out the other's sensuous mouth with his own, exploring lips and teeth and tongue with increasing passion. He heard Mulder moan and the arm around his waist tightened, his partner's erection hard against his ass.

Instinctively he pushed back against Mulder. In response, Mulder's touch became more demanding, his caresses intensifying. His right hand tweaked at a now-sensitive nipple and sent electricity jolting directly to Alex's groin. Mulder's left hand found its way to his burgeoning erection, lightly stroking the slick flesh. Another moan escaped his lips.

Loosening the other man's grip on his waist, he turned around. Eyes still closed, he traced the lines of Mulder's face with his fingertips, savoring the sensations—the strong curve of his jaw, the sandpaper feel of his unshaven cheek, the soft fullness of his lips. Slowly his hand moved down, feeling the muscular chest and flat stomach until his fingers brushed against his hard cock. Mulder pulled away from his touch.

He resisted the urge to abandon the darkness that had sheltered him so far during their encounter. It would mean looking into Mulder's eyes, and he couldn't quite bring himself to do that. Or to allow Mulder to look into his. _Eyes are the windows of the soul. You don't want to see into my soul, Fox Mulder. Trust me._

Then Mulder's lips were wrapped around his cock. Alex gasped at the sensation of his partner's warm mouth sliding down his shaft, teeth gently teasing the flesh as he pulled back again. The moan was a primal sound, originating deep in his throat and pushing its way out through clenched teeth. _Jesus, Mulder, don't do this to me! I don't_ want _to want you._

Colored lights danced on the inside of his eyelids and Alex found himself once again wanting to open his eyes and drink in the sight of his tormentor. He felt Mulder gently take his balls and caress them with one hand while gripping the base of his cock with the other.

"Please," he whispered.

"Please what?" Mulder asked, his voice thick with desire.

 _Yeah, Alex, please what? Please stop? Please suck me?_ "Please don't stop." He barely recognized the voice as his own, but as soon as he heard the words he realized that he meant them. He never wanted Mulder to stop touching him.

He reached down and tangled his fingers in Mulder's hair, drawing the man back towards his cock. Mulder's mouth moved down the shaft, his hand pumping up in the same rhythm. The sensation of his cock being fucked in two directions at once was almost too much for him. Mulder's other hand slowly stroked down his thigh and back up before reaching around to caress his buttocks. One finger slipped carefully between his cheeks to explore the sensitive opening there, pressing gently against the sphincter muscle.

The orgasm that had been building suddenly overwhelmed him and Alex reached out to steady himself against the shower wall, his head spinning and his body consumed by sensations. He could feel Mulder milking his cock of every last drop of come, the gentle grazing of his teeth now agony against the hyper-sensitive member. He pulled away, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. _Not yet. As long as I don't open my eyes, none of this has happened._

Mulder's mouth pressed against his, the bitter salty taste of his own ejaculate still lingering on his partner's tongue. The kiss was long and sensual. Mulder explored his mouth with breathtaking intensity, running his tongue against his teeth and sucking gently at his lips.

Without warning, Mulder pulled back and spun him around, pressing Alex's face against the cool glass bricks of the wall. He gasped as the chill of the glass hit him and a hand, slick with lubricant, caressed his buttocks. Mulder's touch was deft and experienced, first one finger slipping carefully inside Alex, then two. This time the cry that escaped his lips was louder.

"Fuck me," he begged. _Shit! Where'd that come from?_

He could hear Mulder's breathing quicken. Without hesitation, a third finger was inserted in his ass, stretching him to the point of not-quite-pain. After a few vigorous thrusts the fingers disappeared and Alex visualized what must be happening behind him: Mulder greasing up his cock with long, languid strokes, caressing the erection as he lubricated it.

With a start he realized that his own erection had returned and was pressing against the wall. He shifted carefully until he could reach it with one hand and began to stroke it. Then the head of Mulder's cock was pressing against his ass, slowly forcing its way into him.

"Tell me if you need me to stop. I don't want to hurt you."

The pressure increased, and with it a burning pain. He pulled his hands up to brace himself against the wall and gasped in pain. Mulder froze.

"S'alright," Alex said when the sting had subsided.

The pressure and burning began again, but this time only for a moment; then Mulder's cock was inside him and the sensation of hot flesh sliding in and out of his ass was heavenly.

"Oh god, you are _so_ tight," Mulder moaned.

Strong hands covered his, fingers intertwining with his own. With each thrust into him, Mulder forced Alex's cock against the wall. The combination of the slick precome coating his shaft, warm water, and the cool glass bricks was almost mind-blowing. He thrust back against his partner, shuddering with pleasure as Mulder's cock raked over his prostate.

Mulder's mouth moved down to where the pulse was pounding in his neck, kissing and biting the sensitive flesh above his jugular. Alex found himself gasping as he rutted against the wall, bringing himself agonizingly close to another orgasm. Mulder's quiet moans, coming in time with his rhythmic thrusting, were easily the sexiest thing he had ever heard.

"Alex," Mulder moaned.

"Oh god, Mulder, yes."

The tingling in Alex's groin became a throbbing in his cock. His balls pulled up against his body and his muscles clenched involuntarily as he came. He found himself staring at the sparkling lights on the inside of his eyelids again and was only vaguely aware of Mulder wrapping his arms around him, as if trying to envelop him and fill him at the same time. Then the cock in his ass began to pulse and he realized that his orgasm had pulled Mulder over the brink into his own release. After a moment, Mulder pulled away from him and Alex turned around, eyes still closed. _Damn. You can't keep your eyes closed forever, Alex. Which is worse? Letting him see that you're deceiving him or letting him see that you're falling for him?_

Slowly he opened his eyes to find Mulder standing directly in front of him, looking at him intently. Careful not to let too much of how he was feeling show in his face, Alex smiled.

"Thank you," he said, simply.

~ * ~ * ~

Alex looked into the mirror above the sink. His hair was disheveled—a style his college roommate called "the freshly fucked look." He grabbed his comb, but a hand closed around his.

"Leave it," Mulder said. "It looks good like that."

Alex dropped the comb back onto the counter and turned to face his partner. Without thinking he reached out and cupped Mulder's cheek with his hand.

"I'm not quite sure what to think or feel right now, Mulder," he said. _Well, that was honest enough._

"Let's just take things slowly, okay?" Mulder said. "No need to rush."

"That's a little like closing the barn door after the horse has run off, isn't it?"

Mulder looked at him with what almost appeared to be tenderness. "Are you sorry it happened?" he asked.

"No, I guess not." _It's going to be easier to spy on you now. And harder, too._

Tossing a robe to Mulder, Alex pulled on a pair of sweat pants and headed for the couch. "So, when is the pizza supposed to get here?" he asked. "After expending all that energy, I'm starved."

Mulder looked contrite. "I didn't order it," he said. "I was too busy watching you take off your clothes and get into the shower."

~ * ~ * ~

  
_there are parts of me that don't get nervous_  
not the parts that shake  
you won't get what you deserve  
you are what you take  
learning to cry for fun and profit  
I'm not done yet  
counterfeit dollars or the English zloty  
anything I can get

Despite his obvious efforts to appear cool and professional, Krycek still looked very vulnerable as he stood before the gathered members of the Consortium. The man looked from the young agent to the folder on the table in front of him. _I hope they haven't made a mistake with this one. I'll have to keep an eye on him personally; his inexperience cannot be allowed to jeopardize our activities._

"Do you know where he got this?" He flipped through the file, ever-present cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth.

"Not yet. But he got it. Which means he either found another source or another source has found him."

_Another difficulty that must be taken care of._

Krycek paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "Sir, if I can recommend something…you'll see that I have outlined several countermeasures."

_As if you would think of anything we haven't already considered and dismissed. Naive child._

"What about Scully?" he asked. _She is the key to this, the key to keeping Mulder in check._

"Reassigning them to other sections seems only to have strengthened their determination. Scully's a problem. A much larger problem than you described." There was a flash of emotion in Krycek's eyes and his jaw clenched.

_What has the lovely doctor done to trigger such animosity?_

"Every problem has a solution." He methodically ground out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. _Perhaps this boy could serve a greater purpose, after all._


End file.
